


Organic Chemistry (the remix of Improper Fractions)

by Kangofu_CB



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton's Bisexual Awakening, Deaf Clint Barton, First Time, Gentle Dom Bucky Barnes, M/M, Pegging, Pierced Clint Barton, Piercings, Praise Kink, specifically praise kink Clint, tattooed Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Natasha's got a hot new roomate, and Clint's got a staring problem.The guy's ascience teacherfor fucks' sake.But if Clint doesn't get to suck his dick, he might actually die.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 87
Kudos: 502
Collections: Winterhawk Remix 2020





	Organic Chemistry (the remix of Improper Fractions)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Improper Fractions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23519821) by [CloudAtlas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudAtlas/pseuds/CloudAtlas). 



> I would like to begin by thanking the random number generator gods for pairing me with Cloud--Atlas who writes some of the hottest stuff I have ever been blessed to read. It was super fun to play with this idea (and for the love of GOD please read the inspiration fic, it is SCORCHING hot) and write something similar but also I hope a little bit different. 
> 
> Thanks to Mariana O'Connor for organizing and promoting this amazing event. 
> 
> And thanks to you, dear reader, for reading it.
> 
> ETA: the formatting on this got borfed, so it is now updated with proper italics and suchwhat.

“Honey, I’m home!” Clint called, letting himself into the apartment.

And granted, it wasn’t really his apartment, and he wasn’t really home. It was Natasha’s apartment, but Clint had just finished locking up the shop they both worked at that was conveniently beneath Nat’s place and also across the street from his favorite pizza place, so it was like a second home. Plus, he didn’t really want to _go_ home at the moment. It wasn’t that late - by their standards - and Kate had Lucky in L.A. so all Clint would be going home to was a lonely, empty apartment.

“I have _Jumanji_!” he added, in case that was an added incentive. 

There was a snort from the other side of the room that sounded decidedly masculine and made Clint look up from where he was struggling out of his boots. On the couch there was a guy - the strike-you-dumb kind of hot guy - lounging on the couch in basketball shorts and a t-shirt that said _I look FAB in the LAB_. It was worn thin and stretched tight across his broad chest and never had Clint felt more inadequate in his life. Or confused. Why was a guy - especially a guy that hot - relaxing on Nat’s couch? Nat had Maria, she wasn’t looking for a man at the moment. Clint would know; it had put a kibosh on the friends-with-bennies thing they’d had going before Natasha and Maria had met. 

Fucking weird, was what it was. 

Everything in the apartment _looked_ right - that was Natasha’s sofa, and that was Natasha’s television and-

He opened the front door and checked the number on it - yep that was the right apartment and his key had worked. 

“You’re not Natasha,” he said dumbly. 

The guy snorted. “Nope,” he agreed. “I’m the roommate.”

“Roommate?” Clint knew he was gaping. He was holding a steaming box of pizza along with a precariously balanced six-pack and Blu-Ray, staring like the idiot Natasha often accused him of being. He vaguely recalled her mentioning something about subletting the extra room in her place - her stepsister, Yelena, had been using it before, but now she’d gone off back to Russia to study International Relations or some such thing - but he hadn’t realized she’d already found someone to move in. 

And move in he had, apparently. The guy looked perfectly relaxed on the couch, manspreading like the kind of New Yorker Clint hated to see on the subway, and giving Clint the same look of amused judgment he was used to seeing on people around him. Granted, most of those people knew Clint well enough to use the look, and he was a bit affronted to see it on a stranger’s face. He was also _stupid_ hot, built like a brick shithouse with dark hair long enough to tie back and the kind of jawline Clint was used to seeing on the cover of the men’s magazines he refused to read. He also had what looked like a metal arm, something straight out of a futuristic film, sleek and robotic with metal plates that whirred gently when he took the weight of the food from Clint. It was enough to draw Clint’s attention from his face - at least momentarily - but he tried not to stare even more obviously at what was clearly a disability. Clint hated it when people stared or prodded at his hearing aids, and he imagined a prosthetic arm was that much worse. Besides, he kept getting pulled back to the guy’s face, something about it catching and holding Clint’s attention despite his best efforts. 

Jesus, why had Natasha picked _this_ guy?

And why couldn’t Clint _stop staring?_

He finally seemed to take pity on Clint though, standing up to relieve him of the armful of stuff he was carrying so he could get his shoes off. “I’m Bucky,” he offered, taking the pizza and beer and sliding them onto the small breakfast table Nat kept in the kitchen. 

“Clint,” Clint told him, wiggling his toes against the carpet. Nat’s place was _so_ much better than his, even if there was a stranger in it. 

“I figured,” Bucky told him, smirking. “Natasha mentioned you. Why _Jumanji_?”

“What?” Clint asked. 

“Why did you bring _Jumanji_?”

“I’m only allowed to bring movies that pass the Bechdel test,” Clint said, still off-balance. And still _staring_ , fuck. Up close the guy was even broader, though significantly shorter than Clint, and his eyes were a shade of blue-grey that Clint didn’t think he’d ever seen before and _why was he even noticing that?_

Both Bucky’s eyebrows rose. 

“What?” Clint said defensively. “I know what the Bechdel test is!”

Bucky held his hands up. “I never said you didn’t, I’m just surprised that’s the criterion.”

“It’s Natasha,” Clint explained, shrugging. Just knowing her ought to be explanation enough, he figured. 

Bucky huffed a laugh, conceding the point. “She won’t be home for hours,” he told Clint. “Her girlfriend came back unexpectedly from whatever business trip she was on. She told me not to wait up.”

Clint’s shoulders slumped. He’d been looking forward to some company tonight with his favorite comfort foods and a funny movie and his best friend. He wasn’t looking forward to packing it up and taking it across town. 

Bucky was staring at him in a way Nat often did, like he saw right through the bravado to the insecurity underneath. Clint was opening his mouth to apologize and leave when Bucky spoke. 

“Is the movie any good?”

Clint blinked at him. “Of course it’s good! I only choose the best movies!”

Bucky looked skeptical.

“Alright fine,” Clint conceded. “I do love trash movies, but this one is actually good. Jack Black plays the most convincing teenaged girl I’ve ever seen.”

Bucky laughed. “We’ll see. I teach high schoolers, it’d have to be convincing.”

Two hours later they were both laughing and arguing and yelling about the movie like they’d been friends for years instead of just having met. It turned out that Bucky was a _goddamn science teacher_ , so he knew all about teenaged girls and their shenanigans, and teenaged boys too, and he’d loved the movie. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Clint said, trying to catch his breath, “but when she talked about how much easier it is to pee!”

“It really must be,” Bucky mused, trying to look and sound serious before cracking up again. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed and he had fucking _dimples_ and while the movie had distracted Clint for a while, now he was back to staring. Like an asshole. Clint didn’t even know what it was about the guy, whether he was just appreciating the scenery or jealous as hell, but he couldn’t stop looking either way. 

Bucky either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind though, just chatted easily with Clint, leaning against the arm of the couch with one knee bent and the other foot on the floor, thighs spread wide so he could hold a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Clint was watching those thighs now, the muscle shifting every time Bucky gestured to emphasize a point. He set the nearly empty bowl of popcorn on the table and then all Clint could focus on was the juncture of his thighs and the soft mound there, and _what the fuck was wrong with him?_

The door jingled and the lock turned, offering Clint a much needed distraction. Natasha came in looking smug and well-fucked, her hair mussed in that way that some women paid a load of cash for at the salon, and her lips swollen. 

Great, now Clint was surrounded by hot people. How was this his life? 

She paused in the process of closing the door, looking the two of them over. “Interesting,” she said. Clint and Bucky glanced back and forth at each other in mild confusion, and Clint shrugged. 

“Bit past your bedtime isn’t it, Barnes?” she asked, and when Clint looked up it was nearly midnight. Not late by his standards, but he guessed if you had to get up in the morning and go teach science shit to teenagers, it was probably well past time to sleep.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, standing up and stretching until his spine popped, his t-shirt riding up so that Clint was in direct eyeline of the dimples on his lower back. “Night, Clint. This was fun.”

“Yeah,” Clint managed, throat dry. “Thanks. It was great.”

Bucky shuffled out of the living room and down the darkened hallway towards what had been the spare bedroom. 

Clint was still staring when a pillow and a blanket smacked him in the face. 

“Glad to see you two boys getting along so well,” Nat purred, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Sleep well,” she added, sauntering down the hallway.

**

A few weeks later, Bucky had insinuated himself into Clint’s life nearly as seamlessly as Natasha had when they’d first met all those years ago. Clint was at their place a couple of nights every week, sometimes for movies and sometimes for games and sometimes just to drink beer and hang out, making the pervasive feelings of loneliness he’d been grappling with ever since Kate had taken off to do her own thing in California start to abate. It was great. 

Except for some things that were cropping up that Clint couldn’t help but be concerned by. 

His involuntary staring hadn’t stopped, for one thing. Nat had noticed - she kept shooting him sly, amused looks anytime Clint got distracted just _looking_ at Bucky. It had never happened to him before. At least, not with a guy; Lord knew he’d stared at Natasha often enough in the past, back before he’d realized she was his platonic soulmate and not the actual love of his life. But this thing with Bucky - that was new.

And now he was having these _dreams_. 

“Is it gay to dream about blowjobs?” Clint blurted out, not glancing up from the tattoo design he was working on, feeling his ears burning as the words fell out of his mouth.

The buzz of Natasha’s tattoo gun stopped and he could feel her staring at him. She was working on Pietro’s leg - some intricate, full-limb steampunk thing he’d been building on for nearly a year - and the silence in the room felt almost oppressive. 

Not that he thought Nat would judge him, she wouldn’t, and god knew Clint didn’t give a single solitary shit what Pietro thought - he was a good kid, if a bit of a brat, but he was also 19 and his sister worked the front desk of the shop, so he was used to the drama that went on in it. Clint just felt odd and uncomfortable and a bit like he was losing his mind. 

“You like pegging and you’re asking me if dreaming about blowjobs makes you gay?” Nat flatly asked. 

“That’s not the same!” Clint argued, turning to glare at her. Both she and Pietro were looking at him, Natasha’s expression colored with fond amusement and a bit of a knowing smirk. Pietro was just grinning lazily, laughter shining in his eyes. 

“Giving or receiving?” the little shit asked, leaving Clint gaping at him like a fish. “Bisexuals exist, old man,” Pietro told him, as though Clint’s lack of response _was_ a response, before turning to rest his head on his arms and settle back in. 

Nat rolled her eyes. “What he said,” she agreed, turning the gun back on as if to signal the end of the conversation. 

And yeah, bisexuals existed, which obviously Clint knew because Natasha was his best friend and he wasn’t an _idiot_ , he just hadn’t considered that he might be bisexual, which in retrospect might mean he actually was an idiot.

“Is this about Barnes?” Nat asked, after Clint had had a few moments to wrestle with his thoughts. 

“It’s a _hypothetical_ ,” he whined, focusing on the details of the lines he was drawing. 

“You want to bang him like a screen door,” she summarized, and Clint hunched down even further. “Or you want to _be_ the screen door,” she said, thoughtful, and Clint sucked in his breath sharply as the idea of it exploded behind his eyeballs.

“Interesting,” she said, giving Clint the same look she had when she first walked in on Clint and Bucky together, and Clint didn't know if he wanted her to elaborate or if she might say something he wasn't ready to hear. But then Pietro started complaining about his leg falling asleep, and she turned back to him, blessedly letting the subject drop.

**

Or so Clint thought, until the next time he stayed over, after a long Friday night shift which meant he stumbled in behind Nat and collapsed on the couch at 3am before waking up to the rich scent of Bucky’s ridiculously fancy pour-over coffee. He blinked blearily at the ceiling for a moment, relishing the smell and resenting the sunlight. It was bright enough that it had to be late morning at the earliest, but he still wasn’t happy to be awake. Until he turned his head, that is, and caught sight of Bucky on a ladder. He was shirtless and stretching for one of the ridiculous kitchen gadgets that Clint knew were only in the tallest cabinet because Natasha had never once used them and never intended to, almost like he was deliberately putting on a show. 

Or like Natasha had arranged one.

Clint must have made some kind of noise - he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t yet put his hearing aids in - because Natasha turned to look at him, a shark-like grin crossing her face before she schooled it into something more impassive. Bucky turned too, glancing curiously at Clint from ten feet in the air as he passed the whatever-it-was to Natasha without looking. He was stretching to hand the thing down, leaning over slightly and putting all the muscles in his back into sharp relief. There was some scarring around the arm - Clint could clearly see it went all the way to his shoulder - but the rest of him was just… a study in human anatomy. Clint had seen Grecian statues with less defined musculature. It was unfair really. 

Christ, Clint’s science teachers had never looked like _that_. 

Granted, he hadn’t exactly graduated high school but still. He could remember a few of his teachers, and none of them had been that broad or that built or that _hot_. 

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him as Bucky climbed down the ladder.

_See something you like?_ she signed, while Bucky was folding the ladder up and not looking at either of them.

Clint flipped her off. 

**

“So Barnes was asking about getting his nipples pierced,” Natasha said nonchalantly, over a plate of noodles from the Chinese place down the street. 

Clint choked on a dumpling. Natasha watched him impassively as he attempted to clear his airway and breathe around both the dumpling and unexpected lust, unable to think about anything except metal studs through Bucky’s nipples that matched the shiny metal of his arm. He did all the piercings at the shop and just the idea of it made oxygen hard to manage, with or without a stuffed pastry in the way.

**

It was a surprise to find Bucky in the shop when Clint got there. He was relaxing in Wanda’s chair, leaning back with a book in his hand, obviously engrossed. His jeans were stretched tight and worn thin over his thighs, and today his shirt said _Don’t want none unless you got bunsen_ with a little beaker on it. He was a _motherfucking science teacher_ , what the fuck. Clint stared at him until Natasha cleared her throat pointedly. Clint gave her a helpless look as he settled into his station. 

“It’s spring break,” she told him. “He graded all his tests already. He’s bored, I told him he could come down here and hang out.”

Clint could feel his face contort into an expression even _he_ couldn’t quite explain.

Natasha rolled her eyes. 

The door dinged and Pietro sauntered in, eyes alighting on Bucky immediately. “So,” he said, coming to a stop in front of the counter. “You are the roommate.”

Bucky looked up from his book. He had a half-eaten apple in his hand and he gave Pietro a considering look. “That’s me,” he agreed. 

“It is nice to finally see you in person,” Pietro said, leaning on his elbows so he could get a good look at Bucky. “I’ve heard so much.”

Bucky snorted. “I doubt that,” he said, going back to the book. 

“Ah no, Barton talks about you all the time,” Pietro said, and Clint couldn’t see the shit-eating grin on his face, but he’d seen it often enough to know it was there.

It bought him a second glance, narrow-eyed and assessing, and then Bucky glanced around Pietro to look at Clint, who hurried to focus on the tattoo design he was working on. No one said anything else, Clint happy to pretend he hadn’t heard any of the exchange as Pietro got settled on Natasha’s chair and Bucky finally went back to crunching at his apple while he turned pages in his book. Eventually Clint got lost in the familiar feeling of a pencil in his hands and the scratch of graphite on paper.

“Pretty,” Bucky said, from just over Clint’s shoulder, and Clint jumped so hard that he scraped the pencil against the paper and left a thick, dark mark across the design. 

“Thanks,” he managed, sucking air in through his nose in an effort to calm his racing heart. The piece was simple lines of a woman in profile, her robes flowing in contrast to the sharp point of her sword, with a winged helm. He was working on it for Brunnhilde, who was specific and particular, and he’d been trying to get it just right, and he was damn proud of how it was turning out. 

When Clint glanced up though, Bucky wasn’t looking at the paper at all.

**

“You’ve got two options here,” Natasha said, scritching her fingernails across his scalp as Clint lay in her lap and whined about everything. 

“What’re those?” Clint muttered, turning his face into her knee so she could reach behind his ear better. 

“You can either tell Barnes you wanna suck his dick yourself, or I’m gonna do it for you.”

Clint rolled completely over, shoving his face into her lap and whining. “I don’t even know _how_ to suck a dick,” he complained, muffled against the spandex leggings and the press of her thighs. 

She sighed and shrugged so aggressively that it jostled Clint nearly off her lap. “You’ve still got that dildo you like right?” she asked.

Clint groaned. 

“It just takes practice,” she added. 

**

Sucking a dick - even a fake one - was not as easy as Clint would have expected. 

**

It turned out that sucking a dick - even a fake one - was weirdly erotic, once you got the hang of it.

**

The hotter it got, the less clothes Bucky had on every time Clint showed up. He’d graduated from basketball shorts and a t-shirt, to basketball shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped so completely he might as well not have bothered, to just the shorts with no shirt, to now the tiniest pair of running shorts Clint had ever seen on a real person before. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, trying to breathe around the screaming jolt of lust in his veins. Who let this man look like that? He was a science teacher for Chrissake. 

Bucky was at the sink, filling up a water bottle at the tap and humming something soft and off-key. He had earbuds in and a strap wrapped around his right bicep with his phone tucked in and _nothing else except the shorts_ on. It was just miles and miles of tanned skin and the occasional freckle and those _back dimples_ and Clint was going to _die_.

“See you around, Clint,” Bucky said, patting him on the shoulder as he sauntered out of the apartment.

Clint whimpered.

He was hard as a rock and had no idea when it had happened. God, what if Bucky had noticed?

“I’m going to Maria’s,” Nat announced. 

**

It was movie night.

Well, it was _supposed_ to be movie night. 

But Nat was still at Maria’s, and Bucky was sitting on the couch with the television off, staring Clint down like a predator.

“So,” he drawled, and Clint felt his knees go a little weak at the sound, “you wanna suck my dick, Barton?”

Who knew a science teacher could be so filthy?

Fuck, what had Natasha even told him? How desperate Clint felt? That he’d been _dreaming_ of this moment? It was clear Bucky already knew more than enough to know exactly how Clint was going to respond to the suggestion. The self-assured, slightly smug look on his face suggested all that and more. 

Clint only managed a couple more steps towards him before his legs gave out and he ended up on his knees between Bucky’s spread thighs. Natasha had obviously ratted him out, exactly as she’d threatened to do, and Clint couldn’t even be mad about it. Bucky was wearing those same jeans, the ones he wore to the shop, the ones that looked painted on and soft to the touch, the kind of worn-in that meant they were well-loved.

And love them Clint did, wrapped around Bucky’s thighs. He spread his hands across Bucky’s knees and slid them forward, the denim just as smooth and warm as he’d expected it to be. 

Bucky reached out, catching his fingers under Clint’s chin and tilting his head up to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Well?” he said. “Is that what you want?”

“I’ve been practicing,” Clint blurted, trapped between Bucky’s hand and Bucky’s gaze, with his hands still brushing up and down Bucky’s thighs, pressing higher each time until his thumbs were teasing at the crease of the denim. 

Bucky smirked. “Have you now?”

“On- on a dildo, not,” Clint blabbered, his mouth completely disconnected from his brain, which could only focus on the tense of muscles beneath his hands, the heat of skin through worn-out jeans, and the slight hitch in Bucky’s breathing every time Clint’s fingers got close to the zipper of his pants. He swallowed. “Not on people.”

“You wanna show me how much you’ve been practicing sweetheart?” Bucky asked, brushing his thumb across Clint’s lower lip. “You wanna show me how good you can be?”

Clint absently licked his lips, and caught Bucky’s thumb with the tip of his tongue, just barely brushing across his skin. Bucky pressed his thumb in further and Clint wrapped his lips around it, scraping his teeth and tongue ring across the pad and swirling around it with warm, wet swipes. 

“You gotta answer me honey,” Bucky said, eyes focused on where his thumb was trapped between Clint’s lips.

“Yeah,” Clint managed, garbled around the digit in his mouth. 

“I wanna hear you say it,” Bucky told him. He was flushed at the base of his throat, and he pulled his thumb back just far enough that Clint could speak around it.

“I wanna suck your dick,” Clint said, his pulse pounding in the back of his throat and the base of his dick, some complicated mix of arousal and anxiety mixing up into a mess of emotions he couldn’t quite name but wanted to experience more of. 

Bucky took his hand away and leaned further back into the sofa, spreading his thighs even wider underneath Clint’s hands. “Well,” he said, gesturing at his lap, “go ahead sweetheart. Show me what you’ve been practicing.”

Clint slid his hands up, pausing to cup the press of Bucky’s dick beneath the denim, squeezing softly, before moving to the button. He fumbled at it a little, his hands shaking in a combination of nerves and anticipation, arousal curling tight and hot in his belly. He was already hard in his sweatpants, could feel the pounding of his heartbeat in his own cock as he pulled Bucky’s out. 

Bucky was half-hard already, just from Clint on his knees, from his hands on Clint’s face, and Clint gave him a firm pull, not quite enough to get him fully hard, but enough that he could appreciate the heft. Bucky’s dick was thicker than his dildo, heavier in his hand, and blood warm in a way that silicone could never be. Clint inhaled sharply before leaning over and giving it a tentative lick. 

The taste of Bucky exploded across his tongue, salty skin and slightly bitter, and Clint whined in the back of his throat, helpless with want. 

He’d never been so turned on in his goddamn _life_. 

Bucky threaded his metal fingers through the longer hair at the top of Clint’s scalp and tugged, not pulling him towards his dick or forcing him down, just pulling for the sake of it, and Clint felt his spine go liquid. 

“Oh god,” he managed, shuffling forward. 

Bucky hummed but didn’t say anything, waiting patiently with his dick cradled in Clint’s palm. 

Clint leaned even closer, wrapping his mouth around the head of Bucky’s cock and sucking gently, and Bucky made a sound in the back of his throat. It was involuntary and wanting and Clint wanted to hear more, wanted to know what other sounds he could get Bucky to make. He swirled his tongue, pressing the rounded edge of the barbell under the head where his own dick was sensitive. 

Bucky made another quiet sound. 

Clint sucked harder, pushing further with his mouth until his lips met his fingers, Bucky’s cock halfway down his throat and he groaned around it. It was intoxicating, the way Bucky felt inside of him, hot and heavy and firming up between Clint’s lips as Clint drooled all over him. He gave a few experimental bobs, dragging his mouth and tongue and the barest scrape of teeth across Bucky’s cock.

“That’s it,” Bucky breathed above him, “you’re doing great baby.”

Clint moaned again, and moved his hand so he could get to more of Bucky’s cock. He wanted to take the whole thing in his mouth, down his throat until he was choking on it, and he chased the feeling by moving faster and deeper, angling his head until the fit was just right. It was harder this way, a real dick in his mouth that he had to work around, instead of a silicone dick that he could move however he needed to to be comfortable, but Clint was nothing if not determined. 

Bucky’s fingers tightened in his hair again and Clint groaned deep in his chest, tilting so that he got even more of Bucky’s dick in his mouth. He was a mess, he could feel it, could feel the spit running down his chin and Bucky’s dick, the slick motion of it turning him on until he could barely feel his toes as he breathed heavily through his nose on the outstroke. 

“Fuck,” Bucky managed, his voice sounding like rough gravel, and Clint flicked his eyes up to look. Bucky was staring at him, his chin resting on his chest as he stared at Clint with blown-out pupils and a slack mouth. “You love it, don’t you?” Bucky asked, and Clint had to close his eyes as he moaned a response. God he _did_. Clint hadn’t expected that - to love sucking cock. He’d hoped he’d like it, all the time he’d spent with his lips wrapped around a silicone dick, but this moment, on his knees for this man, was the hottest moment of his life. Even his dreams didn’t compare. 

Bucky used the grip he had on Clint’s hair to force him down even farther, until Clint was very nearly choking. Until his mouth was full of cock and all he could concentrate on was the feel of Bucky in his mouth and breathing. 

God he felt _drunk_ on it. Like sucking cock was the high he’d been searching for for years, the sound of Bucky’s gentle praise and tiny hitched moans turning him on so much he felt like he was going to float away. 

Clint lost himself in the rhythm of it, his fingers gripping the base of Bucky’s cock and wet with his own saliva, the bitter tang of come at the back of his throat, the way Bucky’s cock jerked and his fingers tightened every time Clint made a noise he was-

Bucky pulled him off of his cock and Clint whined at the loss, blinking his eyes open in a lust-filled haze. 

“You look wrecked,” Bucky commented, sounding hoarse and a little wrecked himself. He ran his thumb under Clint’s chin, collecting the moisture there, before pushing his fingers into Clint’s mouth for Clint to suck on. “I wanna _ruin_ you,” he murmured, and Clint groaned. He moved suddenly then, some of the control he’d had up until this point shattering, pulling Clint out of the floor to straddle his lap and shoved his hands down the back of Clint’s sweats to fondle his bare ass. 

Clint felt unbalanced, taller than Bucky in this position with Clint leaning over him. It had felt right to be on his knees and now he was looming over Bucky. Bucky’s touch was soothing, though, keeping Clint in his lap and running his hands over bare skin as he looked up to meet Clint’s gaze. He looked content, and the feel of his callouses was grounding, the way he held tight to Clint’s hips and slid his hands beneath the sweatpants to fondle his ass. Like he enjoyed having Clint over him just as much as he’d liked having Clint on his knees. 

“You been practicing anything else?” he murmured, pulling Clint closer so that their cocks ground together, Clint’s still trapped in the cotton of his sweatpants, Bucky’s bare and damp from Clint’s mouth. 

Clint’s mouth dried up and he swallowed roughly, trying to force words out of his throat. “I- yeah,” he admitted.

“Been fucking yourself with that dildo?” Bucky continued, relentless as he coaxed Clint into a rhythm above him. “Were you thinking about me when you did it?”

“Yes,” Clint moaned, closing his eyes as he braced himself on the wall behind the couch. His hips were moving of their own accord now, barely needing any encouragement from Bucky at all. He’d fucked himself seven ways to Sunday with that dildo, wondering if it would be just as good if Bucky fucked him as it had been when Natasha had done it. Clint wasn’t someone who was ashamed to admit what he liked, and penetration was high on the list. It might be the first time he was getting fucked by a man, but Clint liked getting fucked. Liked the feeling of fullness, the edge of overstimulation. 

Bucky’s fingers drifted inward, tracing along the crack of Clint’s ass until he slipped his fingers between them to brush over his hole. Clint shuddered at the sensation, all the air in his lungs leaving in a rush as he slumped forward. He was barely holding himself up now, spreading his thighs wider in unconscious encouragement. 

“Stand up,” Bucky told him, taking his hand away and leaving Clint swimming in aroused disappointment. Clint climbed off his lap on ungainly legs, feeling shaky and turned on. He wanted to get on his knees again, wanted to get his mouth on the cock that was still standing proudly out of the fly of Bucky’s jeans. “Take your clothes off,” Bucky said, before Clint could really consider the option. 

He complied, reaching behind himself to drag his shirt over his head and drop it on the ground, shoving his sweats down to follow. He hadn’t worn underwear because he hadn’t bothered to do laundry, and he was now thankful for the oversight. Clint wasn’t ashamed of his body any more than he was ashamed of his bedroom choices, and he was happy to stand and let Bucky look his fill. Assuming his knees held up. 

“Fuck,” Bucky said, reaching up to grasp Clint’s hip. “You’re gorgeous.” He trailed his fingers over the lines of Clint’s hip bone, up the edges of his abs to flick at the piercing in his nipple. Clint sucked in a choked-off breath. Bucky traced lines of ink and fondled piercings and chuckled when he got a good look at the tattoo on Clint’s right thigh. 

“Is that a caffeine molecule?” he asked, grinning, his thumb tracing the dark brown design that looked like a coffee ring to most people. 

“Yeah,” Clint managed through gritted teeth. Of course the goddamn _science teacher_ would notice that. 

Bucky leaned forward and traced the lines of it with his hot, wet mouth, and Clint trembled underneath the touch. It was ridiculous how easily he was falling apart, how easy he was for Bucky, like he’d never been touched before, _fuck_. 

He’d never been touched like _this_ before. 

“Don’t move,” Bucky said, glancing up to meet Clint’s gaze, and then Clint couldn’t stop staring. He watched as Bucky scooted forward on the couch so he could get to Clint more easily. Watched as Bucky dragged his mouth across the bare skin of Clint’s abdomen and the tops of his thighs before wrapping his lips obscenely around the head of Clint’s cock. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Clint breathed, reaching to brace himself on the wall again as his knees threatened to give out. Bucky held eye contact as he pushed his mouth further down Clint’s cock, sucking hard enough that it was on the edge of too much. It took everything Clint had to resist rocking his hips, pressing into that tight, hot suction. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said again. Bucky’s hands edged around his hips from where he’d been bracing Clint in place to tease at his ass again, probing fingers slipping between his cheeks and then lower-

Clint gasped as his thumb brushed the piercing just behind his balls, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. 

Now his arms were trembling too, as all rational thought left his brain. 

Bucky kept his fingers there, toying with the curved metal barbell while Clint panted for air above him. He slid Clint’s cock out of his mouth slowly, like he wasn’t unravelling all of Clint’s self control in that slick, wet drag. 

“I was gonna have you ride my dick,” Bucky said, conversationally, like his voice wasn’t hoarse and Clint wasn’t practically begging for it already. “Make you show me what you’ve been doing with that silicone one you like. But-” he tugged a little at the piercing and Clint let out a kind of keening noise he’d never before heard himself make. “I wanna see this, I want you on your knees in my bed so I can get a good look. What do you think of that sweetheart?”

“What- whatever you want,” Clint gasped out, as Bucky’s thumb brushed over him again. 

Bucky stood up, his clothed body sliding roughly against Clint’s bare skin. He framed Clint’s face with his palms and pulled him down into a kiss. Their first kiss, the first time Clint had got to put his mouth and Bucky’s lush lower lip, to taste his tongue. He could taste _himself_ on Bucky, which was just one more thing to catalogue in his already overloaded senses. He slumped into it, opening to Bucky’s mouth and letting go of the wall to hold Bucky instead, wrapping his arms around his waist and clinging on for dear life. Bucky shuffled them sideways, guiding Clint around furniture and his own discarded clothes and into the bedroom down the hall. 

It was darker there, lit only by the gentle glow of street lamps outside as Bucky guided him to the bed. Clint fell back onto his elbows, breathing heavily and looking up at Bucky. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted.

“I do,” Bucky said easily, shrugging out of his shirt. “I’m gonna take good care of you sweetheart, you trust me?” 

Clint nodded and tried not to stare too obviously, then gave up because he realized that now he _could_ stare. Could appreciate the cut of Bucky’s chest and the sparse hair on his chest and the matching trail of curls that led to the open fly of his jeans where his cock still hung heavy and hard. The jeans followed the shirt until Bucky was as naked as Clint and climbing onto the bed over him like a predator. He leaned down to press their mouths together, sloppy, like Bucky was nearly as gone was this as Clint. Their bodies were sliding together easily, bare sweaty skin pressed up and close, and Clint marveled at the slight differences between that and past encounters he’d had. Bucky was broad and rough, his chest hair scraping against Clint’s, his muscles bulging with effort as he held himself over Clint’s body and rocked their hips together until Clint was nearly incoherent with it. 

Fuck, how was he a goddamn _science_ _teacher?_ Was his life a porno now? _Hot For Teacher: The Bisexual Edition._

Bucky broke away, breathing roughly, just as Clint was really getting into it, wrapping one leg around Bucky’s waist to push his hips up harder. “Turn over,” Bucky told him, his eyes dark as he looked Clint over. 

Clint rolled onto his knees, a shiver rolling down his spine as the sudden feeling of exposure ramped up his arousal even more. _Fuck_ , this was how he was gonna die. 

The lamp flicked on, bathing the room in a brighter glow, and Clint could hear Bucky rummaging around in the nightstand drawer. Lube, probably. And condoms, which they maybe should have thought about sooner. 

Ah well, Clint hadn’t fucked anyone since Natasha, and that’d been months ago, and Bucky was a _science_ _teacher_ \- surely he was a responsible partner. 

“Look at you,” Bucky crooned, and then his thumb was back, pressing up against the little metal bar Clint had got on a whim, after some drunken shenanigans at a bar where Wade had mentioned how much _better_ it made _everything_. 

Clint gasped as Bucky tugged on it, saw stars behind his eyelids. God, Wade hadn’t been wrong. 

Slick fingers probed at his entrance, thumb still pressing against the piercing, and Clint arched into it, pressing back into the fullness. 

“Fuck you’re so eager, aren’t you baby?” Bucky rumbled, sliding another finger in beside the first. “Practically begging for it.”

Clint shook his head, dragging his face against the comforter underneath him. It was a lie though, because his spine was arched and he was rocking into Bucky’s touch. 

“No?” Bucky said, amusement coloring his tone. He pressed down with his fingers and up with his thumb, and Clint’s entire body turned molten, liquid and heated in the rush of arousal. “You sure?” He shifted and then his mouth joined the party, hot and wet around his fingers, using his tongue to open Clint up and Clint-

Clint fucking breached the stratosphere. If he hadn’t been begging before, he was now, a litany of pleases and incoherent moans falling out of his mouth, just barely muffled by the bedding under him. 

“Oh god, oh _fuck_ ,” he gasped, as Bucky tugged gently at the piercing with his teeth before returning to Clint’s hole, pushing his tongue in with his fingers and twisting them until Clint was nothing but a writhing pile of need. Clint was a slutty bottom. He told people he was a service top, but he’d always known the truth, which was that he liked to be told what to do to please a partner, preferred not to be the one who was really in charge. 

This was going to _ruin_ him. 

He was going to come on thick, calloused fingers and a slick wet tongue, before Bucky even got his dick in him, _oh god_ this had never happened to him before-

Then Bucky stopped, his mouth and his fingers leaving Clint feeling empty and on the edge of orgasm, teetering so close that he felt like a slight breeze was going to send him over. 

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, and Bucky laughed roughly as he spread Clint out between his hands to look at him. Jesus, that shouldn’t be hot but it was _so fucking hot_. Clint pressed back into his touch, begging without words. He’d never been so desperate to be fucked, never wanted something as badly as he wanted Bucky’s cock in him. “I’m- I want-” he started, but couldn’t quite manage to get the words out. Bucky’s dick pressed up against him, then slid between his cheeks instead of pushing _in_ , where Clint so desperately wanted him. Instead he rutted against Clint, his dick hot and slippery through the mess of spit and lube there, making Clint whine. 

“ _Please_ ,” Clint gasped out. 

“Please what?” Bucky asked, teasing, leaning over to leave biting kisses down Clint’s spine. “What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Clint finally demanded, getting up on his elbows so he could thrust back against Bucky, trying to prove how much he wanted it. 

Before Clint could get any more desperate, Bucky was pressing into him, the wide, blunt head of his cock pushing into Clint’s body, similar but so different from the dildo he was used to. 

Clint let out a long, low groan at the feeling. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold the sound back even if he tried. He was pretty sure this was how he was gonna die. Death by dicking. 

Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing that could be in his obituary. 

It definitely wouldn’t be the worst way to die. 

“God,” he panted, trying to relax into the stretch, the overwhelming sensation of fullness. “ _God_.” 

Bucky laughed again, low and dirty, and then rocked his hips, grinding into Clint and making him see stars. 

Clint whined, high and needy. 

Bucky braced himself, his metal hand wrapped around Clint’s hip and the other on the mattress by Clint’s face and settled into a deep, rhythmic fucking.

Clint’s sanity dribbled out of his ears on a string of filthy swear words. It was only a few thrusts before Bucky leaned down to press his teeth into Clint’s shoulder and that was it, Clint was _gone_. 

He came so hard he couldn’t _see_ , shooting off embarrassingly early and unable to even voice a warning, his entire body clenching up and then relaxing into a melted pile of goo, pleasantly sore and sticky. 

“Motherfucking _Christ_ ,” he managed, wheezing into the sheets. 

Bucky was holding himself so still, the arm by Clint’s face trembling faintly, hard and hot inside Clint’s body. He started easing his way out, Clint groaning around the sensation. Once he was all the way out, Clint whimpered, at the loss of fullness and the way he still felt soft and wet and _open_.

Bucky’s fingers pressed into him, punching a moan out of his chest that Clint couldn’t control, 

“Could push right back in,” Bucky murmured into his ear, working his fingers deeper. 

Clint keened, arching into the touch like he couldn’t help it, even though it was a lot, it was _too_ much, he still _wanted_. “Could,” he mumbled, spreading his knees. 

“Would you like that?” Bucky asked, a note of surprise under the roughness of arousal. 

“Please,” Clint managed, because there was nothing left of his dignity anyway and the idea of Bucky fucking him, when he was so overstimulated and boneless was appealing in a way he couldn’t express. 

Bucky replaced his fingers with his dick, fucking into Clint with determination, more grinding than thrusting as he chased orgasm with his mouth slack against Clint’s neck and his breath punched out and erratic. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand tightening on Clint’s hip as he came, his hips flush against Clint’s ass. 

He slumped sideways after a long, breathless moment, slipping out of Clint but pulling him into the curve of his body as he went, his arm a warm, welcome weight over Clint’s waist. When both their breathing slowed enough for words, he pressed another kiss behind Clint’s ear, then slid his hand back between Clint’s thighs to toy with the piercing there. 

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groaned, spreading his thighs wantonly, like he wasn’t just fucked into oblivion not ten minutes before. “Could you _not?_ ”

“Not into it?” Bucky asked, and Clint could feel a grin pressed against his shoulder, like Bucky knew exactly how into Clint it was. 

This guy was gonna be the death of him, Clint just knew it. A fucking _science teacher_. 

_God_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Endless and impossible to express thanks to Steph for beta reading, hand holding, and listening to me whine about every aspect of this fic forever and ever, amen. 
> 
> Also to everyone else who has encouraged me along the way especially Amy and Nny. Thank you to Feathers for reading it over to make sure it was coming across authentically. You are all an inspiration.


End file.
